


Relax, Release, Repeat

by sayasamax3



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Foot Massage, M/M, Tickle Fights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 03:26:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6178402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sayasamax3/pseuds/sayasamax3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tsukishima attempts to give Yamaguchi a foot massage, Yamaguchi is too ticklish for that by far, and fair turn-about wins the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relax, Release, Repeat

**Author's Note:**

> So I started writing this back in like… June of 2014. Might’ve been on a bus to or from Vienna? Never finished it, mostly because originally it was gonna be PWP and I have scruples regarding writing porn on buses. Had my heart only been more pure then, I could have finished this years ago.

It feels strange to look down on Tsukishima.  He’s so much taller that even when they’re both sitting, Yamaguchi more often than not has to look up at him.  

So the world seems oddly shifted, with Yamaguchi seated on the edge of his bed and Tsukishima kneeling between his feet—or at least, _their_ world does.  

“T-Tsukki,” heat bursts under Yamaguchi’s skin, burning and uncomfortable, “You don’t gotta return the favor or anything, you know?”

Tsukishima stares back up at him, expression unimpressed, until Yamaguchi mutters a quiet, “If you’re sure…” and tentatively lifts his left foot.  

The slide of Tsukishima’s knuckles against his skin as they first work their way under the band of his sock, pulling it off before carefully roll his pant leg up over his knee sends a warm, pleasant tingle throughout Yamaguchi’s body, filling him with a rising sense of anticipation.  Tsukishima’s hands are so nice, elegant and strong and just a bit cool to the touch, and Yamaguchi always feels a bit giddy whenever he’s got those hands on him in any way.

“Where should I start?” Tsukishima asks, staring up at Yamaguchi from over the rims of his glasses, and Yamaguchi’s always known that Tsukishima has a compelling gaze but this—how is he supposed to remember what words even are with Tsukishima looking up at him like that?

“Ah—wherever is fine?” Yamaguchi’s voice barely resists cracking; his whole mouth’s gone dry.  

Tsukishima’s scowls could almost be described as loud, they’re so potent, and the one he’s wearing now is all but shouting at Yamaguchi about the supreme unhelpfulness of that response.  All the same he shrugs and mumbles, “Feet it is, then.”  

The press of Tsukishima’s thumbs into his arch forces a low, relieved groan out of Yamaguchi.  Practice (along with so many other things in his daily life, really) aren’t exactly easy on the feet, and it’s been so long since Yamaguchi’s even done this for himself—he hadn’t realized how much he hurt until Tsukishima’s careful fingers began kneading the pain out of him.  One groan turns into a sigh as relief floods his body and slowly, no longer able to quite resist of the pull of gravity, Yamaguchi lays back on the bed, his eyes sliding closed as Tsukishima’s hands work the tension out of him.

Only, a new sort of tension begins to rise in him as Tsukishima’s fingers move up to his ankle, his knuckles sometimes brushing Yamaguchi’s shin.

“Hey, stop squirming,” Tsukishima’s voice is quiet and just a bit put-out, and even without looking Yamaguchi knows he’s probably pouting just a little.  

“S-sorry Tsukki,” Yamaguchi breathes in little half-chuckles, propping himself up on his elbows to better look at Tsukishima, “It just—tickles, a bit.”  

“Tickles?” Tsukishima looks at where his own hands are on Yamaguchi’s skin, uncomprehending of how it could tickle, of all things.  Experimentally, he runs a single finger up Yamaguchi’s shin.

“Ts-Tsukkiiii,” Yamaguchi whines, struggling not to squirm too hard for fear of kicking Tsukishima’s face or hands.  

There’s something in Tsukishima’s eyes, a certain devilish playfulness, that makes Yamaguchi brace himself for a sudden and very purposeful onslaught.  

He’s not actually sure that’s what happens, though.  Tsukishima doesn’t grin or smirk at him, or even make a sly comment.  He just shrugs and continues on with what he was doing, his fingers kneading into the muscles of Yamaguchi’s calf, sending jolt after jolt of tingling sensation through him.  The hands he slaps over his mouth don’t seem to do anything to muffle his giggles, and his legs tremble with the sheer effort it takes not to squirm or kick.  

A reprieve comes when Tsukishima switches to Yamaguchi’s other foot.  By then, a happy exhaustion has already started to seep into Yamaguchi’s bones.  His stomach feels strained from long minutes of suppressed, constant laughter, his thighs and calves burn with the effort it took to stay still, but the gentleness of Tsukishima’s touch has made it all bearable, bearable and so sweet under his skin.

The momentary break leaves him unprepared for when Tsukishima moves farther up his leg, and this time Yamaguchi knows he’s being tried, feels Tsukishima teasing him with every press of his fingers, daring Yamaguchi to break down into laughter.

“Tsukkiii,” Yamaguchi whines, stuck once more in a cycle of relaxation—reaction—tension, and he looks down at Tsukishima with a wobbly pout and a reddening face.  

Tsukishima’s expression is pointedly blank, with a certain fragility to it that suggests one wrong word will break his composure down into snickers.  Yamaguchi pouts harder.  

“You’re not very cooperative, you know,” Tsukishima says, the corner of his mouth threatening to curl up, “And all I’m trying to do is help you relax.”

Tsukishima drags his thumbs down over Yamaguchi’s shins, sending another jolt up his leg.  "Liar!“ Yamaguchi declares, and grits his teeth against the urge to giggle.  

"Oh no, you caught me,” Tsukishima replies in a monotone.  Then his expression breaks into the smirk that’s been threatening his calm façade all evening, and Yamaguchi is so caught up in the wicked gleam of Tsukishima’s eyes that he doesn’t move to defend against Tsukishima’s hands, moving over his thighs and hips, resting on his waist for just a moment before–

Yamaguchi barks out a laugh, loud and unexpected, before dissolving into helpless giggles, squirming under the delicate dancing of Tsukishima’s fingers over his sides.  Yamaguchi falls back, curling his arms around his middle, a completely ineffective defense against Tsukishima’s reach and his determination to utterly destroy Yamaguchi, or at least his composure.  His breath comes in short between hiccuping laughs, and his vision swims with tears and the sight of Tsukishima’s broad grin.  

(He wishes he could see it clearly—Tsukishima rarely smiles so big and bright.  The part of Yamaguchi that’s somewhat coherent wants to stare and marvel.)

The onslaught ends when Yamaguchi wheezes, voice weak and delirious with laughter, “I give! I g-give!” The touch against his side changes from the too-light tips of fingers to the solid, warm press of open palms moving up and down over his sides, soothing the last of the tremors out of Yamaguchi until he relaxes, boneless, onto the bed, smiling like he doesn’t know how to stop.  Tsukishima lays down beside him, looking accomplished.  

“What was that about?” Yamaguchi asks, still a little breathless.

Tsukishima shrugs. “Relaxing,” is all he says, and Yamaguchi doesn’t get it but he is certainly relaxed now, and even Tsukishima’s expression has gone soft with a loss of stress and tension, habitual distain replaced by something sweet and fond.  

Even so, Yamaguchi thinks—decides, really. Even so.  

“Relaxing,” he repeats, his own hand coming up to rest on Tsukishima’s side, moving to mimic the press and slide of Tsukishima’s hand against him.  Tsukishima’s eyes go wide with understanding at about the same time that Yamaguchi’s smile turns devious.

“Yamaguchi…”

Yamaguchi’s fingers curl against Tsukishima’s side (his sensitive, somewhat plushy side that Yamaguchi’s stupid in love with, like he is with everything that makes up Tsukki).  

Tsukishima looks caught between horror and excitement.  "Don’t even think about it.“

"But Tsukki,” Yamaguchi says, drumming his fingers, “Isn’t it your turn to relax?”  
  
---


End file.
